


Remember, Remember

by rakketyrivertam



Series: You'll Be In My Heart [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Family, Gen, Ratchet's Excellent Bullshit Detector, Secret Past, Transformer Sparklings, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21676597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rakketyrivertam/pseuds/rakketyrivertam
Summary: "Are you sure?""You care?""He's a sparkling.""Just do the job, Tumbler."Prowl tries to keep his creation safe.
Relationships: Bluestreak & Prowl & Springer, Jazz/Prowl, Prowl & Springer (Transformers)
Series: You'll Be In My Heart [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1611241
Comments: 14
Kudos: 107





	Remember, Remember

**Author's Note:**

> This fic pretty much takes place in a pocket dimension based on G1 cartoon, IDW canon, and my own preferences. Fair warning, I do not like Impactor. I've tried to make sure this isn't bashing or ooc, but there's only so far you can take <del>"unlawful good"</del> that kind of strong sense of justice and absolute right before it starts to grate.
> 
> Everything you need to know about before the fic that I didn't write down because I couldn't tease it out in my head is that the Wreckers came to Earth to help out, Impactor died off-screen, and Springer is now acting commander of the Wreckers.
> 
> Anyways, they did Prowl so dirty in IDW and that does not spark joy, so I'm yeeting canon out the window.

They should never have come to Earth.

They should _never_ have come to Earth.

“Springer, wait a moment.”

Springer froze, turning to see it was Prowl who had called out to him.

The Ark’s first officer said his good-byes to the other mechs who had gathered in the tiny debriefing room, then crossed over to Springer once they had all left. “How are you holding up?”

Springer sneered at the implication. “I’m fit for duty-ˮ

“I know, though I’d still like you to show up for your post-battle check-up. That’s not what I meant.” Prowl took a deep breath. “I know Impactor was your mentor.”

Springer shrugged. “He raised me like his own after he found me. I honestly wish I was.”

A shadow of some undefinable emotion flickered across Prowl’s face. “But you have people who look after you still?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re letting them?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Prowl opened his mouth to say something else, then closed it and stood there awkwardly instead.

Springer shook his head. “I didn’t think you’d be a mech to care.”

“I care,” Prowl said, perhaps a little too quickly. “I know all the rumors about my emotional protocols and their varying levels of functionality, but I care.”

Springer stared, frowning at the uncharacteristic earnestness of his commanding officer. He struggled to find the words he wanted. “I… I know Impactor was your friend.”

“Not for a long time.” Prowl sighed. “There were… We had differing opinions on a rather important subject and hadn’t spoken to each other since.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.” Prowl stood there in silence for a moment, before extending a hand toward the door. “May I escort you to the medbay?”

Springer blinked in shock. “Uh… yeah. Yeah, sure, let’s go.”

The two of them walked abreast throughout the halls of the Ark. Prowl seemed to have a million things he wanted to say but couldn’t, and his restless energy spilled over into his field. The result was two very twitchy commanders making their way to the medbay as fast as possible without looking like they were in a hurry. Understandably, everyone gave them a wide berth.

Ratchet was grumbling as he sealed up Roadbuster’s internals, and he waved Springer over to another berth without looking up.

Prowl took a seat a ways away and brought a datapad out of his subspace, settling down to do some work.

So he was staying. Great.

Springer kicked his feet as he waited for Ratchet to make his way over to him.

Finally, Roadbuster was sent on his way, and the medic converged on Springer with all the wrath of an oncoming storm. “So I hear you haven’t had a complete physical since you came on with the Wreckers 48,192 vorn ago,” he said conversationally.

Springer swallowed nervously. “Standing orders from Kup and Impactor. My frame is convoluted and no one was certified enough to do more than put things back where they came from.”

“Well, it won’t stand in my medbay. Open up, I’m going to do a full scan.”

Springer sighed and flared out his plating, baring as much of his protoform as he could stand.

“Spark, too.”

“Can we get a private room if we’re going to do this?”

Ratchet sighed. “Normally, I’d say yes, immediately, but they’re all full up at the moment. I can seal the medbay so no one can get in without ample warning?”

Springer cast a glance at Prowl, who still hadn’t looked up.

“I can kick out all non-essential personnel, too.”

“You need a supervising officer,” Prowl said, still not looking up.

Ratchet glared at him. “That would require actual supervision.”

Prowl grimaced and put away his datapad, turning his focus to the other two mechs. “I apologize.”

Springer sighed. “Yeah, okay.” He chest plates split down the middle and carefully transformed away, flooding the medbay with reddish-orange light.

“What in the Pit?” Ratchet snarled, dragging a scanner over from one of the other berths.

“It’s the crystal,” Springer explained. “It’s not a spark crystal, it’s something else.”

“A fire-crystal,” Prowl said, staring in something like awe. “It’s exceedingly rare. There were only two in the Helix Gardens in Praxus. One was as tall as the Towers in Iacon, and the other was its offspring. Visitors were encouraged to take shavings of the smaller one and try to grow them themselves – an outsourced bit of conservation, if you will. Successes were rare, though.” He glanced up at Springer. “How do you curb the growth?”

“Growth?” Springer asked, right as Ratchet cursed.

“The crystal’s about to pierce out the back of your spark chamber,” he explained. “We need to operate, now.”

Prowl frowned and stood, walking over. “If whoever designed your frame had any idea how Praxian singing crystals work… May I?” He gestured to the metal surrounding Springer’s chamber, and not the crystal or spark itself.

Springer nodded dumbly.

Prowl’s fingers quested along the edges for barely half a second before he made a triumphant noise and flipped Springer’s spark chamber over so the back of it protruded from his chest. “It was a common trick among growers of crystal sculptures,” he explained at the dumbfounded looks he was given. “I dabbled myself for a time.”

Ratchet blinked in shock then moved in with a scalpel to start pruning the overgrown crystal back.

Springer vented harshly as the sharp instrument moved closer and closer to his very soul.

“Done,” Ratchet said, then motioned for Prowl to flip the chamber back. “Show me.”

The two of them flipped Springer’s chest around several times before Ratchet was satisfied.

“Were any of your creators Praxian?” the gruff medic asked.

Springer shook his head. “I don’t know. The Wreckers picked me up from a destroyed Neutral colony. I don’t remember anything before then.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and Ratchet immediately zeroed in on the scars there. He smiled sheepishly. “Shrapnel.”

“Mnemnosurgeons,” Ratchet corrected. “I’ve seen it enough times. Shrapnel doesn’t leave that pattern. Something fishy’s going on here, to use a human expression.” He waited a beat and then rounded on Prowl. “And _you_ know something about it! You’ve never been quiet when mnemnosurgeons have been brought up before, especially when it seems they’ve done something without a mech’s permission!"

Prowl’s eyebrows raised as if to say ‘who, me?’

Ratchet growled.

“Is he right?” Springer demanded. “Do you know who I am?”

Prowl sighed. “It was Tumbler. My ex-Amica. He was the mnemnosurgeon who operated on you. He would have left the memories there, simply buried behind cloaked firewalls.”

Springer’s eyes narrowed. “And how do you know it was him?”

Prowl stood and edged toward the door. “Just find the memories, they’ll explain everything.”

“Sit down!” Ratchet barked.

Prowl obeyed without question, planting his aft on the cold floor and not moving. “This isn’t an interrogation.”

“Not yet,” Ratchet promised darkly. “Don’t think for a second that I don’t have your conjunx’ comm frequency saved to my HUD.”

Prowl sighed and bowed his head.

Springer closed his chestplates and hopped off the berth. “How do you know it was him?”

“I hired him to do it,” Prowl admitted, “just like I hired the mech who reformatted you into a triple-changer. It was a question of safety. The Decepticons had targeted you several times already. It was – It was better if they thought you were dead.”

“Who else knows?”

“Kup and Impactor.”

“Why would the Decepticons target me? I’m no one special, not then.”

Prowl looked up, immeasurable sorrow plain for everyone to see. “You are. You were then, too.”

“How?” Springer demanded.

“The memories-ˮ

_“How?!”_ Springer’s vents heaved, and he stood there for a moment, towering over Prowl.

Ratchet subtly reached for a sedative.

Prowl reset his vocalizer, then spoke carefully and slowly. “You’re my creation.”

Ratchet could only stare in shock as Springer’s optics flared white and he collapsed.

* * *

Ostaros couldn’t breathe. He pressed closer to his carrier, burying his face in his chestplates as if he could climb back inside them and sit close to that spark that had sustained him for so long.

“Please,” Ri said. “If it doesn’t work… Well, we lose him either way. At least this way we tried.”

Sa gently pried Ostaros from Ri’s arms. “Okay.”

* * *

Ostaros could breathe, but his spark felt too big for his frame. He reached out for his creators through the glass of the containment unit.

“The crystal shattered again,” Sa said. “I put another one in, but it’s just another temporary measure. It might be time to say good-bye.”

Ri’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Not yet.”

“Prowl, please,” Sa reached out to touch Ri’s shoulder, “don’t drag this out any longer. It will only hurt more.”

Ri shook his head. “I’m not giving up. Praxian crystals can handle the greater energy input from the false spark. I’ll grow him one.”

“Prowl….”

Ri stalked away.

* * *

Sa was excited as Ri returned and took off his disguise. “Did it work?”

“Perfectly. Carpessa is gone, and no one saw me, even in disguise. They all think it was the Decepticons. By the end of the decacycle, there will be two hundred new Autobots at the least.” Ri crossed to Ostaros’ specialized berth.

Ostaros smiled at him and waved.

Ri waved back and scooped him up in his arms. “How have things been here?”

“The crystal is holding. He’s almost stable enough to not need the spark support every night.” Sa perked up. “Oh, and I solved the NoizeMaze!”

* * *

There was fire, and it hurt. Sa was gone, where was Ri?

Ri’s monster disguise walked toward him, held out a gun.

Ostaros froze.

“Shit,” the monster said. “I can’t do this. You’re nothing dangerous, now, are you?”

* * *

“So, you didn’t see fit to tell me there was a sparkling there.”

“If you had waited to go until I told you to, he would have been safe with me!”

“He’s not safe with you, Prowl. I think this whole thing proved that. Why didn’t you just take him and run the minute you found out your conjunx was blowing up cities in his spare time?”

“You think Mesothulas would have just let us go? He loves Ostaros too much for that.”

“That’s an excuse and you know it. Say it, Prowl. You know it’s the truth, even if you can’t see it yet. You’re just too high value of a target with the way your career's heading. Come on, say it.”

“… He’s not safe with me.”

* * *

“Ri! Ri!”

“Hello, Ostaros.”

“Hi, Ri!”

“How are things on Debris?”

“They’re okay. Xanthium’s nice.”

“Good. Are you taking your lessons?”

“Yeah. They’re boring, though. What’s it like on Cybertron?”

Ri’s face fell. “They’re… not improving. Praxus is gone.”

“But that’s where you’re from! You said you would take me there!”

“I know. I wish I had seen this attack coming. Maybe I could have stopped it. Oh, Primus, I need a vacation.”

“Does that mean you'll come visit soon?”

“I’ll try, brightspark.”

* * *

“Ostaros.... How would you like to have a big brother?”

“A big brother?”

“Yes. He would have to stay here on Cybertron, but he would come with me when I visited so you could spend time with him. His name is Bluestreak. He’s from Praxus, and his Ri and Sa are dead. We would be his new family.”

“Okay. Does he like magnesium?”

“He does, almost as much as you do.”

“Okay, then he can be my brother! Are you going to come visit soon so I can meet him?”

“I believe we will.”

* * *

“You must be Ostaros.”

“Hi! Are you my new brother?”

The mech snarled and then everything hurt.

* * *

Ri stroked Ostaros’ helm as he woke up. “Hey, brightspark. How are you feeling?”

Ostaros blinked at the med bay. “I got hurt?”

“Yes, a Decepticon snuck onboard my ship when Bluestreak and I came to visit. He hurt you very badly. Topspin fixed you, though.”

“Oh,” Ostaros said. “Where’s Bluestreak?”

Ri turned around and woke up a silver mech that was sleeping on another berth. “Ostaros is awake.”

Bluestreak shot up, wide-eyed. His gaze landed on Ostaros and he grinned. “Hi! I’m your brother.”

Ostaros tilted his head. “You’re not blue.”

“No. Is that still okay?”

Ostaros grinned. “Yeah!”

* * *

“How did this happen? Even if we didn’t catch the stowaway, Xanthium should have.”

“We’re working on it.”

“He can’t - ˮ

“Prowl?”

“I’m making too many enemies, Kup. It’s not safe for him. Bluestreak at least will be surrounded by the Prime’s personal guard, but he can’t – He can’t know me anymore. Ostaros, creation of Prowl, can’t exist anymore.”

* * *

“Are you sure?”

“You care?”

“He’s a sparkling.”

“Just do the job, Tumbler.”

* * *

Ri stroked Ostaros’ forehelm gently. “You’re going to go to sleep now. It won’t hurt.”

“He’s going to make the nightmares go away?”

“Yes, and he’s going to keep you safe.”

“I’m already safe.” Ostaros smiled. “I have you.”

Ri smiled, but his eyes were sad. “It’s time to go to sleep.”

“Okay. Good night, Ri. Love you.”

“Love you, too, bright spark.” Ri leaned over and kissed his forehelm, then pressed his red chevron to Ostaros’ shallow crest. “My Ostaros. Sleep well. I love you for always.”

* * *

“Where am I?”

“You’re on the Autobot ship Debris. We picked you up from a Neutral colony. You were the only survivor. Do you know your name?”

“I… I don’t remember.”

“That’s not surprising, considering your injuries. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

* * *

Springer jolted awake as someone fell on him.

Prowl stood, nursing his jaw. “I deserved that.”

“You’re damn right,” Bluestreak snarled. “I had just lost my family, and you told me my brand new little brother died, too?! What is wrong with you?”

Springer groaned. “Take your pick.”

Bluestreak perked up immediately and he shoved Prowl away to get a look at his sibling. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got ran over by Optimus Prime in his alt mode.” Springer sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. “What happened?”

Prowl sighed. “Turns out Tumbler left a back door to your memories. If I admitted my relation to you, they would all return. It knocked you unconscious. The Wreckers have been very concerned. I haven’t told them yet, I didn’t know if you….” He trailed off, bowing his head.

Springer sighed and glanced at Bluestreak, who shrugged. “I need time,” he finally said.

Prowl nodded and turned toward the door.

“Will you stay?”

Prowl froze, then turned around and sat gingerly in a chair by Springer’s berth. “Of course.”

Bluestreak launched into a story, Prowl leaned forward to listen, and Springer smiled, closing his eyes to bask in their field and rest just as the Wreckers kicked the door down, followed closely by Jazz.

Springer’s step-sire….

Time.

Time sounded good.


End file.
